


Sweat on Black Lace

by Havoc_Kenway



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Adorable Connor, Alpha Haytham, Alpha!Haytham, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Bottom Connor, Don't Worry About It, F/M, Femdom, Heavy BDSM, Kinda, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, POV Third Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Scent Kink, Scents & Smells, Shameless Smut, Smut, connor is kinda slut, literally just smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-08 02:00:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10375356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Havoc_Kenway/pseuds/Havoc_Kenway
Summary: A few little smutty ficlets with OCs of mine and characters from Assassin's Creed, mostly the Kenways.





	1. Connor x OC

**Author's Note:**

> Be warned! This is literally JUST SMUT. And BDSM. If you're squicky with that, turn back now!
> 
> xoxo  
> Havoc

 He was kneeling on the hard ground, sitting back on his heels. The room was dark, like a concrete dungeon, no windows, but a sconce of light at the entryway revealed the glow of chains and metal cages along the walls. His hands were chained behind his back, the cuffs jingling loudly as he yanked at them, and his caramel skin glistened over his muscles. Connor had no idea how he got into this situation. The girl seemed so nice.

So pretty.

So innocent.

   As though summoned, she struts into the room, sporting a dark leather corset and high leather boots, carrying a riding crop. She smacks it satisfyingly in her palm, a sadistic smile slipping onto her face. His blood goes cold, the familiar feeling of fear causing his stomach to lurch. She walks passed him, trailing the leather part of the crop across his chest and causing him to shiver. She stands behind him, pressing the tip of her boot to the chain connecting the cuffs and pulling him back, gripping his neck under his jaw and pulling his head up to look at her. She gives him a fiery look, dragging her hungry gaze down his chest before releasing him and backing up. He tries to turn and look, but jolts at a sharp pain of leather on his bicep.

   "Face the front." She commands, and something about her tone made him do so. She traces his spine with her nails, and a ripple of strange pleasure followed them. She slinks slowly, sexily around him, and as she bends in front of him he suddenly becomes aware of his lack of clothes. He flushes at the thought, feeling heat pool low in his abdomen. Her pale cleavage shines in the dim light, and her beautiful face comes into his field of vision. She sinks to her knees as well, biting and nipping at his neck and jaw, her nails clawing down his thick arms and sending another wave of strange pleasure through his veins. The seductress drags her teeth across his shoulder before standing and wielding the crop threateningly.

   With quick, precise flicks she smacks him on the meatiest parts of his chest and arms, dipping dangerously close to his hips. With another flush of reddened cheeks, he realizes that his member is standing proudly at her antics. "What's this?" She drawls teasingly. With a smirk that embarrasses him even further, she lightly traces his member with the leather tip of the crop, and he clenches slightly at the contact.

   Suddenly, she smacks his thigh with the crop, a surprised whimper escaping his proud lips. She giggles softy before pressing the smooth tip of her boot against his groin roughly. He jerks with a gasp, tilting his face up to her. He looks up at her with wide eyes and she meets his gaze, her free hand gripping his neck firmly under the jaw to tilt his face up more. Her ruddy, chocolate eyes hold a lust he has never seen before, on anyone. It excites him even further, a growl of pain and pleasure tears from his throat as she grinds her boot against his sensitive member. He can't help but rut slightly against it, leaning into her grip, his eyes narrowed and lips parted in pleasure. She smiles the crazy smile of sadist, and that fear was back again. But this time, it adds to the heat within his abdomen. She suddenly stops, releasing him and backing away, and she leaves the room. Connor's body shudders in anticipation, his big hands gripping the chain that binds him to the floor. His member throbs at its previous abuse, begging for more contact.

   When she re-enters the room, the riding crop has been replaced by a strange, strappy leather contraption. She looks evilly at him, fitting the thing over his thick member and tightening the small straps so that it fits snuggly, with the exception of the bottom one, which was tightened much too tight. She pulls a controller from her cleavage, showing it off in a ceremonious gesture. She leaves again, and returns with a strange tool that looked like a short leather mop with an ornate handle that had two inches on either side of her hand and sharp looking tresses. A click resounds through the room and Connor jolts with a yelp as the leather strapped to his member begins to vibrate. He couldn't have stopped his gravelly moans if he tried. He was so distracted that he didn't see his captor get into position, but he sure as hell felt the sharp sting on his left peck of what he realized was a flogger in her hand. She expertly flicks the grip again, the tresses falling on the right side of his chest, and he jolts again. He moans loudly, the pleasure heavily outweighing the pain by now. He was used to pain, but feeling like this was a completely different story. The vibrations suddenly got strong, and a tear slides down his cheek as he realizes that the strap around the base of his cock was tight to prevent his orgasm, and it was doing its job well.

   He was right on the edge, with no reprieve in sight. Wave after wave of heart shuddering pleasure radiates down his spine to his fingertips, but it wasn't enough. She flogged him again, left, right, and he heard himself begging her. "Oh?" She pauses, brow raised, but the vibrations don't stop so he continues to beg. She gives him another sadistic smile, gripping his throat firmly, but in a way that didn't quite choke him. "Look at you, you little slut." He whimpers, writhing in her grasp. "You wanna cum?" She asks, her lips close and her breath hot, sending shivers straight to his cock. He nods eagerly, obedient in his desperation. With a click the vibrations stop, and he found himself rolling his hips, attempting to get some sort of friction from the straps. She watches him, unmoving. He was panting, looking at her with pleading eyes.

    Finally, she reaches down and loosens it slightly, blood rushing back into the sensitive appendage. "Don't you dare cum." She commands, and he pants, his brown eyes laced with lust. The vibrations begin again, and it was all he could do to not climax, fearing what she would do if he did. He wines and writhes, begging her again and again to allow him release. She gripped him under the jaw again, an action that sent a pulse of pleasure straight to his member and he begged once more.

   "Cum." She commands simply, but the authority in her voice sent down a surge of pleasure and he obeyed gratefully. The pleasure wracked his body, and very loud moan laced with desperate whimpers tears through the quiet of the concrete room. His moans drowned out the clink of his chains, and the soft vibrating in between his legs. His mind went blank as wave after wave of pleasure ripples through him, his body sensitively alight. She trails the flogger across his back and causes delicious shudders that he could feel to his fingertips. His breath comes in ragged pants, his thighs and abs dripping with his slick. She leans over him from behind, sliding her soft hands gently down the abused flesh of his chest and sending even more chills up his spine.

   Perhaps she wasn’t as innocent as previously expected… He could live with that…


	2. Haytham x f!Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Viola, the older Kenway for you Haytham girls (or guys, I don't judge ;D)  
> This has a little plot to it, if anything, but still mostly ABO smut.
> 
> xoxo  
> Havoc

    You stand at the wash bucket, washing the few plates and spoons you made at lunch. Haytham was supposed to be back by now, and worry sinks into your gut. Not that he couldn't handle himself, he had been writing to you over the month he had been gone, but even  _he_  said that the task shouldn't take more than three weeks to complete. Here you were, a week  _after_  his supposed ETA, and there was no sign of him.

   You sigh, drying your hands on your apron as you remove it. The maid, a stout beta named Derise, whisks the apron away, admonishing you for doing chores. "The Grand Master abhors when you do menial labour! You know how alphas can be" she scolds, her lips pressed thin and her hands on her broad hips. You feel slightly guilty, only for a moment, but you just shrug and slink up the stairs to the master bedroom. You flop onto the bed you and Haytham share, rolling around and wrapping yourself up. It still smells like him, just a little, and you sigh. 

 

   Suddenly, you hear the front door slam open, loud enough to be heard across the manor and on the third floor. You leap out of bed, all but flying down the stairs and into the foyer, where you are surprised to see an injured guard leaning against the door frame. Your heart sinks, blood running cold at the racing thoughts in your mind. "The traitor..." He starts, wincing and pulling himself inside to shelter himself from the snow. "Benjamin Church... Led us to an ambush. We... The Grand Master got away... To pursue other leads... But I just wanted to make sure..." He fumbles about his words, but they bring no less relief. "Where was he last?" You ask slyly. "Northeast part of the Frontier, but I- oh god no, Ser, please, I beg of you, don't follow him!" He back pedals, albeit uselessly. "He'll have my hide if he knows I let you go!" He pleads.

    You hide your smirk in a scowl of false worry. "I understand," You respond simply, and skulk back up the stairs in mock disappointment. As soon as the guard leaves and the maid goes back to the kitchen, you sneak downstairs and out the back door to the stables after arming yourself with hidden blades, two pistols, a British cutlass, and a hooded cloak over your gown to obscure your identity. Your mare, Tamaria, neighs at you, as though admonishing you, before reluctantly letting you mount her and speeding off to the Frontier.

  
****

 

   By dawn, you've reached the outskirts of John's Town, and you are careful to avoid guards. Many of them know your face and would be obligated to take you back home. You swiftly avoid a caravan of guards and continue until you suddenly hear sounds of fighting. Turning back, you dismount and creep into the dense foliage, watching the scene unfold. A large, buff assassin takes out the trailing 4 guards without even raising an alarm, then he climbs atop the carriage and air assassinates the officer and grenadier. The drummer is the only one left, making a run for it but barely getting a single meter before getting shot. The assassin begins to loot the caravan, and you can see that his skin is an unusual bronze. You take in the sight of his tomahawk and bow, the tribal patterns on his armlets, and the tassels on his quiver, coming to the obvious conclusion that he was a native. You, being too nose-y for your own good, sneak down closer to him under the cover of the bushes.

    You watch him, entranced, and he suddenly turns to look your way. You force yourself to be completely still, but you accidentally make eye contact with the exotic assassin. He tenses, but you rise slowly, revealing that you pose no threat to him. He strides closer to you, causing you to back away in turn. You were practically harmless, but he was clearly capable. He holds out his hand awkwardly, as a sign of peace, and you eye him for a moment before cautiously slipping your small hand into his. "I am Connor," He introduces, and you raise an eyebrow in suspicion. "Right, and your real name?" You ask, knowing full well that  _Connor_  is not a Mohawk name. He looks at you, surprised, before looking down. "Ratonhnhaké:ton," He responds, a small grin pulling at his lips. You smile charmingly. "I'm (your name), a pleasure," You state. You suddenly remember why you're here, and you feel slightly guilty.

    The assassin, Ratonhnhaké:ton, is very attractive, and looks a lot like Haytham, but perhaps that's just because Haytham is very attractive too. This man, Connor, is attractive in a wild and, somehow, innocent sense, while Haytham is silver tongued and proper. They are nearly polar opposites, yet both entranced you so. The native examines you inquisitively. "Why are you out here? Is it not dangerous for an unarmed woman to be in the middle of the Frontier?" He asks, genuine worry laced into his features and voice. You bear your hidden blades, giving him a sly smirk. "I'm not as defenseless as you think. And to answer your first question, I'm looking for my lover," You explain, beckoning Tamaria over. She has a suspicious look in her eyes, like she's seen him before. Considering his occupation, that's actually pretty likely. "I really must be going, but perhaps we'll meet again someday?" You smile charmingly, mounting your horse and riding off to the northern side of the frontier 

  


   You stumble upon Haytham completely surrounded and severely out-numbered, and quickly jump in to aid him. You take out 2 of the bandits with your pistols before launching from Tamaria and taking down 2 more with your hidden blades. Haytham looks furious and surprised at you, but uses the anger for the bandits instead. Together, you make short work of the group, and stand victorious without so much as a scratch. At least, you aren't injured, but you can see a large gash across Haytham's chest. You quickly begin to patch him up, looking up at him sheepishly. "Who told you?" He growls, and you shrug. "I didn't ask his name," You explain, examining the wound as an excuse to not make eye contact.

    He grips your jaw, gently but firmly, forcing you to look at him. "You  _will_  tell me when we get back," He says, his voice of calm rage and Command sending a shudder down your spine. It has been far too long since you had any physical contact with him, and you are becoming hot at his touch. You nod, obedient and breathless. You can feel your heat coming on, and Haytham is well aware of how he was affecting you. Without another word, he whisks you onto his horse and high-tails it back to New York. To home. You grip him tightly, feeling weaker as your heat overcomes much of your rational mind.

    Shamelessly, you attempt to rut against the hardened leather saddle, shuddering when you grind against Haytham's cape. "Stop," Haytham commands, and instincts force you to still. Whimpers tear from your throat, hopelessly aroused as you beg him for release. He slides one hand back, down your stomach, and grips your soft spot warningly. You moan, a shudder of pleasure rippling through you. Your knuckles turn white as you grip the back of his clothes, panting heavily against him. Haytham takes a back-way to the manor, knowing that riding through town with an Omega who's in heat would cause a large commotion. "Please, Haytham..." You find yourself begging. He is not as resilient as he boasts, and you are swiftly rewarded with a stiff grinding of his leather-gloved hand.

    You shudder, the distinct feeling of his broad hand rubbing against you forces out moans that travel directly to Haytham’s ears. He growls slightly, removing his hand, much to your chagrin, to grasp the reigns tighter, spurring the horse into a gallop. You suddenly realize that you might have bitten off more you can chew with you notice how tense Haytham is. No doubt this had been a long four weeks for him as well.

   When you arrive at the manor, Haytham wastes no time whisking you down from the horse and carrying you inside. You can clearly smell his Alpha scent, and it’s making you lightheaded with arousal. This, no doubt, has an even greater effect on Haytham, who takes the stairs to the master bedroom two at a time.

    Haytham busts into the room, nearly breaking the door down, and tosses you onto the bed. You begin unbuttoning your blouse as Haytham undresses, stalking towards you like a hunter with prey. He quickly crawls on top of you, nipping at your neck with a fierce gentleness you know he reserves only for you. You fumble with the buttons, his gentle kisses making you weak, and he growls, ripping the rest of the buttons as he tears your blouse open. You make a small noise of surprise, and he dips down to kiss down your stomach briefly. He makes his way to the top of your trousers, wasting no time unbuttoning them and yanking them down.

   You lift your knees around his head, your thighs squeezing his cheeks slightly as he licks your sensitive spot relentlessly. Haytham’s scent grows stronger every time you moan, and eventually he can’t hold himself back anymore. He crawls back up to your mouth, kissing you and leaving the taste of yourself on your tongue as he frees himself. Quickly preparing you with his thick fingers, he sucks on your pulse lovingly while he enters you. You can feel yourself stretch, and soon you’re panting in time with his thrusts. He holds your legs down, and you look up at him with lust laced in your eyes. Your gaze wanders over the scars on his chest and arms, then focuses on his face as he sets a rough pace. Your nails find purchase on the exposed skin of his arms and back, writhing beneath him. You feel his knot swell, and suddenly it stretches you even further. You bite his neck harder than intended, and he bites down in return as you both climax together, your scents mingling into one.

    The knot held you together, causing you to wince slightly at the uncomfortably large mass. He licks the bite mark on your neck apologetically, sending pleasant shivers down your spine and successful distracting you as the knot slips out. Haytham collapses next to you, and then draws you into his arms. You wrap your arms around him and tuck your head beneath his chin, breathing in his scent. Later, he would have to take a bath, but now? You’re just glad he’s home safe.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any requests (of assassins creed smut), comment the person and the situation and I might just write one for you!
> 
> Xoxo  
> Havoc


End file.
